


Kakariki

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-26
Updated: 2005-04-26
Packaged: 2018-07-27 17:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7626889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Karl Urban is scary, Dom wants to touch Billy, gifts are given, Maori curses are feared, and greenstone has some truly amazing qualities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kakariki

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile.

By Jocondite (La Joconde). Orignally posted [here](http://jocondite.livejournal.com/22398.html) to livejournal. 

 

 

i.

 

Dom reaches out and touches the curl of white bone resting on Karl’s breastbone. “Y’know, I keep seeing people wearing these. I swear half of Welly are wearing them. Half the extras, at least.”

He shoots a carefully constructed beseeching look up at Karl. Time to implement the Cunning Plan.

Dom’s confident that Karl will be unable to resist expounding on a subject he knows better than Dom. It’s a reasonable conclusion, at least; if it were Astin, it’d be foolproof.

“Explain to me what the deal is, will you? Why some are straight and some are all whirly? And some of them are made of this white stuff, and others are this really fucking gorgeous green.”

Karl’s lips are quite distinctly curled in a smirk, and his chest rumbles with amusement under Dom’s hand. Dom snatches it hastily away.

“I’m actually not very surprised you’re asking this,” Karl says, and his tone is definitely smug.

Dom goes utterly still. _Why the hell is Karl grinning like that? Why the hell is he not surprised?_. Dom thought he’d been rather subtle about the whole thing. Even Elijah, so hypersensitive to shifting currents and subtext, hasn’t said a word. He hasn’t even looked at Dom funny.

And Billy, unsurprisingly, is entirely oblivious.

“I saw you at the pub last night, y’know,” Karl adds, “You weren’t exactly discreet about what caught your eye.“

Dom passes from _still_ to utter petrification.

God and Wellington know that he’s done some utterly stupid things whilst completely blotto, but if he stared obviously enough for his _fucking cast mates_ to notice -

“Viggo and Bean were actually making bets about whether you’d need to be fished out of that girl’s cleavage,” Karl continues, and Dom blinks at the apparent non sequitur.

“Cleavage?”

Karl eyes him. “You can’t have been pissed enough to have forgotten her, surely? That pretty brunette with the -” he cups his hands in front of himself, in the universal sign language for Amazing Tits. “Y’know, the one with the necklace?”

Dom remembers the necklace. A lovely lovely shade of bottle green, verdant and reminiscent of rainforests. Dom’s partial to green. The brunette had rather nice green eyes, as well, if Dom remembers correctly; green enough for Dom to share a couple of snogs with her in a smoky corner of the bar.

Sweet relief courses through him, and he can feel the muscles in his shoulders loosening.

“Yeah, her. Got me wondering about them. I’ve seen them everywhere - where would I buy one?”

Karl spread his hands. “Most jewellers, especially in the touristy parts. The greenstone ones are more expensive; they’re called pounamu. The bone ones tend to be a bit cheaper.”

“That’s _bone_?” Dom scrunches his face up in disgust. “Cannibal.”

“They’re not made from human bone. Anymore,” Karl adds darkly, and Dom’s always thought Karl, for all his good-natured blokiness, could be one hell of a scary fucker.

“Yeah, well, that’s still revolting. ’S as bad as wearing fur.”

Karl _hmphs_ , deep in his throat, and Dom decides not to push it. “Are you planning to buy it for yourself?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Dom replies, a shade too hastily.

“You’re out of luck, then. Literally.”

Dom squinches his eyebrows together and looks at Karl quizzically.

“You can’t buy a pounamu for yourself. It’s bad luck. Pounamu can only be received as gifts.”

_Hmmm. That fits nicely into the Plan._

 

 

 

ii.

 

“What’s this, Dom?” Billy asks, blinking slightly in astonishment at the gently rounded piece of greenstone resting in his palm. After some deliberation, Dom had decided on that simple form, eschewing the carved curling flourishes that Karl had informed him represented the mythological fish hook [carved from a human jawbone, incidentally] used to fish up the North Island in some extraordinary Maori myth.

Billy can contort his face wonderfully into fantastical expressions that make Dom chortle; he’s perfected a slightly owlish, short-sighted look of solemn befuddlement he employs to perfection now, eyebrows struggling to meet his hairline.

Dom’s too raw and nervous to laugh, however; he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looks at the ground.

“ ‘S a necklace, isn’t it? It’s a sodding present, Bills.”

“I can see that,” Billy says, eyebrows lowering a fraction. “Why’re you giving me presents, Dom?”

 _Thank god for Karl and peculiar Kiwi traditions_ , Dom thinks with blinding gratitude.

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? I’ve been wanting one for ages now, but I’m reliably informed that it was terribly bad luck to go and buy one for myself,” Dom says solemnly, wagging his head in sorrow.  
“And, y’know, I’m not brave enough to dare breaking some Maori tapu. God knows what the repercussions might be. My balls might fall off, or I might never get laid again, something dire like that. And we can’t have that, can we Billy?”

Billy shakes his head with equal gravity. “That would truly be a crime against the human race, Dominic.”

“That’s what I thought,” Dom nods. “So, Billy-my-boy, be a true friend, a noble companion, and accept the bloody necklace, would you? To stop a terrible ancient curse from being levelled at my innocent head?”

“Innocent, my arse,” Billy snickers. “Very well, Dommie. Bring it back here, and put it on me, would you?”

 _Perfect_.

Dom gently lowers the necklace down over Billy’s slightly bowed head, standing just a few inches behind his shoulder, close enough to breathe in that wonderful fresh Billy-smell, that for some reason, despite its warmth, has always reminded him of green.

He lets the woven black cord settle at Billy’s nape, adjusting it until the knot is squarely lined up with the gentle bump of Billy’s spine, relishing the feel of soft skin under the light brush of his fingertips.

“There you go,” Dom grins, stepping around to face Billy again.

He nearly has to stifle a sigh at the sight of Billy, looking faintly bemused, eyes wide, and the pounamu green below the dip of his collarbone, resting on top of the worn fabric of Billy‘s shirt.

Billy’s eyes and Billy’s necklace - Dom’s wanted to see the two together for so long that the sight of the beautiful, complementary green practically cuffs him in the solar plexus. He was right; Billy’s eyes look fucking amazing, even better than usual, with the necklace to highlight them.

“How’s it look?” Billy asks, and quirks one of those expressive eyebrows at Dom.

“Vain bugger, aren’t you,” Dom laughs, forcing himself to act normally. “ _It_ looks pretty good - it’s a dreadful shame about the face above it.”

He dodges Billy’s elbow easily.

“It looks really good, actually - but -”

He leans forward and slowly opens two of the buttons on Billy’s shirt, until the cool slick surface of the greenstone nestles against flesh.

“It’s supposed to rest against skin, you see,” Dom explains softly, stepping back and nobly refraining from twining his fingers in the cinnamon curls of chest hair he’s just exposed.

“The lady in the shop where I bought it, she said that. Greenstone’s porous, apparently; it absorbs the oil from your skin, so the longer you wear it, the more beautiful and glossy it becomes- ”

Billy’s eyes lock onto Dom’s.

“You bought it for yourself in the first place, didn’t you, Dom?” Billy asks in a low tone.

“Yeah,” Dom fibs. “What about it?”

“You tried it on?” Billy continues. “Wore it next to your skin?”

Wordlessly, Dom nods, and it’s the truth this time, although why Billy’s taking this tangent he has no idea.

Billy glances down, eyes briefly hooded, and then their full green stare is focussed on Dom once more; he’s pinned by it, like some rare example of a moth or butterfly specimen by a so-called naturalist.

Billy’s fingering the necklace when he speaks again. “So it’s got some of your essence in it, would you say, Dominic? Leeched from your skin? And some of mine, now, to mingle with it?”

 _Shit-fuck-bugger-arse-fuck-sodding-fuck._ Dom doesn’t know how, but Billy’s put a neat little finger square on it. Dom’s perfect plan is in tatters.

“It’s a bit of a rigmarole,” Billy says quietly. “If you wanted to have your touch on me, you only had to ask.”

And Billy’s a lot closer than Dom realized, transfixed by those eyes, and he blinks rapidly when he realises they’re nearly close enough for their noses to bump, butterfly-light.

And then Billy tilts his head, and moves closer still, until his lips brush Dom’s as well.

And Billy’s eyes are shut now, but for once, Dom doesn’t mind in the least.


End file.
